


I've Got Your Back

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awesome Skye (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Canon-Typical Violence, Coulson Needs Skye Like Air, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Mission Fic, Office Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Phil Coulson, Protectiveness, Romance, Sappy, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ridiculously sappy future fic, set after Coulson stops carving alien symbols. (I'm not kidding about how sappy it is!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got Your Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts).
  * Inspired by [king & lionheart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377745) by [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin). 



> Apparently my muse is beyond obsessed with these two - I wrote this in just over 12 hours, despite already having two other fics on the go. (See, obsessed!)

Coulson's arm hurts like a bitch, but he bites the inside of his cheek to stop even a whimper escaping because he doesn't want Skye to worry. Of course, he realises a moment later, that she can read him like a book anyway so she already knows he's hurting, and her hands are gentle as she puts his arm into the temporary sling she's rigged from the webbing from her rifle.

"Try not to move it, sir," she says, her tone implying he's too stupid to know better than not to move an arm that now has two bullets in it. He concedes that she might be slightly justified in her tone, given that his stupidity is what got him hurt in the first place.

"Stay behind me and try to keep your head down, please," she tells him.

"Skye." His tone is a weak protest, at best, and she grimaces, as if she doesn't actually trust him not to get shot a second time, which, fair enough, he thinks. Today has not been a good day as far as demonstrating his ability to stay out of trouble's concerned.

She gestures at him as she ducks down behind a piece of broken wall, then peers around it, both of them hoping it will provide them with sufficient cover. He crouches behind her, waiting, and admiring yet again how calm, competent, and capable she is in the field. She seems fearless, and brave, and so strong that sometimes he feels as if he doesn't know her at all – yet she was just that way when he confronted Mike Peterson at Union Station – she'd had his back even then, even while unarmed and inexperienced. And he realises that he should've noticed before the way that she always has his back.

She grasps his right wrist firmly in her left hand, while her rifle remains poised in her right.

"Ready?" she asks, her voice low and soft.

"Skye." He nods and she moves out, still holding onto his wrist, guiding him forward, and her touch is like an anchor holding him steady against the effects of the blood loss.

Ten minutes later, he's sitting in the back of the SUV and she's feeding him painkillers before checking that his field dressings are still in place after their dash back to the vehicle. 

"Let's get you back to the Bus and Simmons' expert care," she says, and he nods, biting the inside of his cheek again because now he feels faint and dizzy.

"I may ask Simmons to knock you out," she tells him, her tone tart, but her brown eyes soft with worry. "Or I might let May do it the old-fashioned way."

"Skye." His attempt at a protest is weak, and she shakes her head at him, then grabs the front of his Kevlar vest and leans in to press her forehead against his.

"If you _ever_ do anything like that again, sir, I will ensure you never leave the Playground again.

"Skye." There's slightly more vigour in his tone this time, but she just scowls at him, before lowering her mouth to kiss him; he moans into her hot mouth, appalled at how much he wants this.

"Phillip Coulson, you're an idiot," she tells him when she pulls away.

"Skye." Her name is a whimper of need, and she shakes her head, although she looks as if she might prefer to shake him. 

Then she helps him into a more comfortable position on the backseat before she climbs into the front seat and drives them back towards the safety of the Bus.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

"Crap." Skye's tone of annoyance alerts Coulson to the fact that they're no longer alone, and he looks up quickly from fixing the explosive charge to the outside of the building's power supply.

"How much longer, AC?" she asks.

"Nearly done," he tells her, trying not to flinch as she presses her back to his and begins firing on the HYDRA goons who are beginning to appear in the courtyard.

"Whenever you're ready, sir," she says a little pointedly, continuing to fire.

"Done," he tells her, and moves around to her side as even more HYDRA forces pour into the courtyard.

They're both quick and accurate in taking out their targets, but there are still way too many of them.

"Looks like we'll get to field test Fitz's new toy after all," she tells him, sounding just a little too gleeful for his liking.

"Are you crazy?" he demands.

"Not so crazy that I'm not going to give it a shot if the choice is between it and either being shot dead or blown up," she tells him.

"You'd better stand in front of me, she adds, "I'll cover your back." 

He moves into place, fiddling with the controls, as she continues firing at the HYDRA goons, and he can't quite believe neither one of them has been hit yet, but a moment later he thinks he should have touched wood before thinking that because the release switch on their flat pack jet packs kicks in, and it is a kick, and they grab each other's arms as they zoom upwards into the sky so fast that Coulson feels his ears pop.

"Come here often, do you sir?" Sky asks, then chuckles at the look he gives her. Their arms are still wrapped around each other, and Skye's face is almost impossibly close, and then her hot mouth is on his and he feels dizzy with desire.

"You seem to be getting rather fond of doing that," he observes when she releases him.

"Twice," she says. "I've done it twice, and besides, the hero always gets to kiss the girl once he's rescued her."

"I am not a girl," he tells her with as much dignity as he can muster.

"You really don't have to tell me _that_ , sir," she says, pushing her pelvis forward, and he groans at the pressure against his embarrassingly hard cock.

A moment later he feels Skye turning them around and sees the Bus waiting for them, the open cargo ramp looking very inviting as she manoeuvres them towards it.

"Well, that was fun," she says brightly once they're safely aboard. "I can't wait to tell Fitz his toy works."

Coulson forces his eyes away from her as she peels off her Kevlar vest and the jet pack that goes under it. But when she starts to move away, he catches hold of her elbow lightly.

"My office, five minutes," he says, and she gives him a surprised look, then nods.

"We can't go on like this," he says without preamble when she walks into his office.

"Like what?" she asks, and he can tell she's genuinely mystified.

He gestures at the door and she still looks bemused, but she shuts it, then crosses to stand in front of his desk.

"You can't keep kissing me, Skye," he says, hoping he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels.

"Twice," she says in a flat tone. "I've kissed you exactly twice. And you are overreacting. You need to loosen up, Director." She scowls at him, her arms crossed on her chest, and he sits down abruptly, only too aware of how much the mere sight of her in her combat gear is turning him on.

"Nevertheless, I am asking you to refrain from kissing me in future."

"Fine. Message received and understood. Sir." She puts heavy emphasis on the final word, then turns on her heel and stalks out, leaving him feeling guilty, even as he breathes a sigh of relief.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

It's a month later that Coulson finds himself kissing Skye, and as her tongue slides into his mouth he tries to remember why he was so adamant that she shouldn't kiss him.

They've been out in the field together again – May's never happy when he does this since she says the Director of SHIELD is too important to be risking his life on field missions, but Coulson insists that it's important for him to keep his hand and eye in, and when Skye backs him up, May subsides with a mutter of "You two always stick up for each other."

Of course, the mission doesn't go exactly to plan – because, after all, no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy – and Coulson and Skye find themselves without comms and unable to contact Bobbi for back up, or ask Trip to come and fetch them. But what makes it even worse is that Skye gets hurt. Not too badly – ricochets from rifle bullets hitting the stonework they're using as a shelter, but the pieces of stonework are large enough to take a couple of chunks from her forearm, and another slices across her cheek. She doesn't let it distract her – her own shots remain steady and devastating to the enemy, but there are so many of them that Coulson finds himself on the verge of panic, until Skye grabs his forearm with a grip of steel and says in a firm tone, "Relax, Coulson, it's not that serious."

She releases his arm and resumes firing, and he wonders just when she became the one to comfort him instead of the other way around. Then he realises, very belatedly, that he's fallen in love with her, that he fell in love with her a long time ago, and all this time he's been in denial.

By the time their comms come back, the bad guys are all dead, and Trip and Bobbi rendezvous with them exactly as planned.

Skye is dismissive of her wounds but submits, with obviously amused tolerance, to Coulson's attentions when he insists on patching her up. She completely ignores him as he works, talking to both Bobbi and May, who's back at the Playground, updating them both on the details they've learned about HYDRA from carrying out this raid.

Coulson lets her go when they reach the Playground, noticing that she seems to be buzzing with energy still, but suspecting that she's going to have quite an adrenalin crash later. He knows, however, that May and Bobbi will keep an eye on her without him asking, so he makes himself head back to his office, meeting Billy Koenig on the way.

"Oh good, you're back," says Koenig, then he gives Coulson a closer look. "What's wrong?"

Coulson shakes his head. "Nothing. Just a little tired of the never-ending crap that's HYDRA," he says. Which is true enough that he's not really lying, but he can't talk about what else is on his mind, or not to Koenig, at least.

It's late evening when he sees Skye again – he'd been working through endless reports for the rest of the afternoon since their return, and he hadn't even noticed that dinner time had come and gone until there's a quick rap on his door, and Skye, dressed in the red dress she wore the first time he flew her in Lola, comes in carrying a covered tray.

"You missed dinner," she says calmly, and carries the tray across to his desk, setting it down exactly on top of the classified file he's reading.

"Skye," he says plaintively, but she ignores him, pulling a napkin off the top of a bowl of richly-scented stew and a plate with two warmed bread rolls on it.

Coulson realises that he is hungry when the scents hit his nose, and he accepts the napkin from Skye.

"We need to talk," she tells him, "but eat first."

He raises an eyebrow at her, but she simply looks at him, and he bites back a smile of amusement at her somewhat dictatorial manner, and begins to eat. The trouble is, he realises, that he's never treated her as if she's a subordinate, not even on day one – he's always treated her as if she's his equal, and she's always accepted that.

Skye settles herself onto his couch, sitting cross-legged as usual, and poring over the tablet she's brought with her, and he watches her as he eats: her gaze is intent and focused, and her concentration seems absolute, until she says,

"Did no one ever tell you it's rude to stare?"

He looks over at her, ready to apologise, but she's smirking at him. Then she asks, "Have you finished eating?"

"Yes, thank you."

She nods, puts the tablet aside, then pats the couch seat beside her. He smiles a little at that, but he crosses the room to join her.

"What got into you today?" she asks directly.

He frowns at her. "What do you mean?" he asks, staring at the mark on her cheek where she'd been hit earlier. It's not that noticeable, even when he's sitting right next to her.

"Coulson." She puts her hand on his forearm, and he feels the warmth of her fingers strike through the fabric of his shirt sleeve (he discarded his jacket some time ago), and he swallows, keeping his eyes lowered because he's afraid of what she might see.

"You panicked out there," she says softly, but there's nothing judgemental in the tone of her voice, she just sounds concerned. "I've never seen you panic during a firefight before."

"No," he agrees, then swallows again. "The last time I reacted that badly, you were already unconscious."

"Oh Phil."

He looks up at the remorse in her tone, noticing, and yes, liking, the way she says his name.

"Whatever am I going to do with you?" she asks quietly, tightening her grip on his arm and giving it a little shake.

"Kiss me," he tells her, earning a pair of raised eyebrows, unsurprisingly. "Please?" He should despise himself, he thinks, begging a pretty girl to kiss him, but before his self-recrimination can overwhelm him, she's got her hand on the nape of his neck, and is angling his head towards hers. "Last chance to change your mind," she tells him, her breath ghosting over his lips.

"Please, Skye," he begs, and then her mouth is on his, and he's trying to remember why he ever told her not to do this.

He breasts are pressed against his upper arm since she is still sitting sideways on the couch, and he feels a surge of arousal that makes him moan into her mouth like a horny teenager.

"Do you want more, Phil?" she asks, her breath hot on his ear as he tries to pull himself together. "Tell me if you want more."

"Skye," he whines, needy and achingly hard, and she laughs softly, but not unkindly, before moving to straddle his lap, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders as she leans in and kisses him fiercely.

He starts fumbling with his clothing, and she chuckles, a warm, sexy sound he's never heard from her before and his arousal grows, his cock hardening so much that he worries he's going to come much too soon.

"Come here," she says, and pushes his hands aside to unfasten his belt and pants, freeing him quickly and easily.

She palms his cock and he groans, his hips jerking involuntarily beneath her.

"Patience," she whispers, then shifts off his lap long enough to reach up under her dress and slip off her panties, then she settles herself back on his lap and kisses him, open-mouthed and dirty, and he whimpers.

"Please, Skye," he begs, and worries that he sounds close to tears. What is it about this girl he wonders, that she draws out his emotions so easily. Possibly the fact that she saved his sanity a few months ago, when carving those alien symbols had been a terrifying obsession – he's convinced that if she hadn't got the Obelisk from Daniel Whitehall and helped him to use it, he'd be lying in that fake grave of his instead of sitting here with Skye in his lap.

"Stop thinking so much," she says softly, nipping at his bottom lip, before lifting herself up, then lowering herself down on his straining erection. He breathes her name like a sigh, or perhaps a prayer of gratitude for whichever fate or deity brought her into his life.

"Wait," he says suddenly, when he's already buried inside her. "What about – "

"Relax, Phil," she says, cutting him off. "I'm a big girl, and I've been taking care of that for a long time.

He gasps when she tightens her muscles around him, and then she begins to move, and he can only cling tightly to her hips, his eyes devouring her face and the play of expressions on it as she rides him, slowly at first, then faster and harder.

She comes first, triggering his release, and he doesn't even realise he's crying until she brushes the tears from his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

"Better?" she asks, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, then trail a line of kisses along his jaw to his ear.

"Yes," he mutters, feeling ashamed of how emotional he's being today.

"Good." She nips at his earlobe, then leans forward against him, her arms loosely around his neck.

"Do you think it'd be better if you don't come out in the field with me?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I'd probably only worry even more," he admits, not daring to meet her eyes.

"Poor Phil," she says, her tone light and teasing.

"Besides – " he says, then stops, thinking that she'll laugh at him for being corny.

"What?" she asks. Her tone is coaxing, and she's rubbing her fingers against the nape of his neck in a soothing manner, toying with his hair.

"I trust you, Skye. When you're in the field with me, I trust you to have my back."

"May – " she begins, but he shakes his head.

"I do trust May," he tells her, "but I trust you even more. I have ever since Raina's machine. I trust you to bring me back."

"Always," she says, her expression fierce and loving. She kisses him, slow and sweet, then rests her forehead on his.

"Just try not to panic in future, if I take a knock."

"I'll try," he promises.

"Good enough." Then, after a pause, "Come on, let's go to bed," she says quietly, and he tightens his arms around her for a moment.

"Will you stay with me?" he asks quietly.

"Always," she repeats, and he hopes he's not going to cry again, but he thinks that if he did, she'd forgive him.

"I love you," he whispers into her hair.

"It's mutual," she tells him, and kisses him again, as if to prove it.


End file.
